


Rose Colored Boy

by In_a_Mossy_Grove



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Autistic Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Introspection, Lorenz is a great character you guys are just mean, No editing we post like Gays, Some Ableism, Stimming, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_a_Mossy_Grove/pseuds/In_a_Mossy_Grove
Summary: Lorenz knows how people feel about him. He feels the same way, after all. He endured through his time at the Monastery, taking the insults and pranks with as much grace as he could muster.Five years later, he feels that mask begin to crack.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Rose Colored Boy

**Author's Note:**

> So anyways I love Lorenz and he's an underrated character. 
> 
> #fearthedeer

Lorenz hated war meetings almost as much as he hated the Alliance Roundtables. It was all military jargon and arguments over where troops should be positioned. He knew all this already, having poured over all the material hours before. This was his specialty, not that anyone cared. If he tried to speak up he would be immediately shot down. 

Now Claude was monologuing about some scheme and everyone was listening intently. Lorenz shifted in his seat, already sick of sitting still. His father would have berated him for not paying attention, or even snapping back at the new Duke Riegan. Lorenz didn’t care. Ever since fighting his way out from under his father’s oppressive influence, he had lost the taste for leadership. 

He drummed his nails on the arm of his chair, giving in to the itching need to fidget. Trying to focus on the meeting felt like someone was ripping his hair out, strand by strand.

Someone kicked him in the shin and he looked to see Lystihea glaring at him, “Cut it out.” She whispered and motioned towards his tapping fingers, “It’s annoying.” 

Lorenz swallowed hard and curled his hands into fists to stop tapping. It felt like his father was there again, smacking his hands with a wooden ruler everytime he tried to fidget. 

_ “Stop flailing!” the man would roar between blows, “What kind of noble are you, one who flails and fidgets? No one will ever take you seriously.”  _

Lorenz digs his nails into his legs. For years he had done what he could to be the perfect son, he’d reigned in everything his father had hated and gave himself fully to the ideas that were seeded in his mind. The officers academy had been his once chance at freedom before he had to take his place as a shell of who he was, but the war had cut that ideal down. Even still, he had thought memories of his father’s actions no longer affected him. 

The Professor rises from their seat and pulls his attention once more, “Alright. Meeting dismissed.” 

Lorenz stood quickly and left the room, pushing past Leonie and Ignatz on his way. He meant to apologize, but the words were stuck in his throat. His room is the only thing that stops him from curling up in the hallway and giving up. He sits on the edge of his bed and rocks back and forth, humming low in his throat. 

He was so tired of pretending. 

Every time he stopped himself from flapping his hands or tapping his fingers he felt a part of him wither away. When he stopped himself from talking for long stretches about his interests, he felt like there was a knife twisting in his stomach. 

He was used to people watching him, but never for kind reasons. There were students who stared and laughed as he walked by, mocking his hair or mannerisms. People had painted insults on his door and snuck bugs under his door. 

Lorenz was used to it by now. 

It was exhausted to know that everyone looked at him like some kind of freak. If he avoided eye contact then he was dismissing someone. If he was too blunt, he was patronized for being rude. If he fidgeted, people complained. If he went on at length about his interests, such as tea or art, he was seen as snotty. 

Yet Ferdinand was praised by his classmates for such behaviours. His knowledge made him elegant and refined, if not a bit obtuse. Lorenz found it frustrating. Ferdinand was just like his father, believing that nobles were supposed to rule over commoners. 

Nobles were supposed to provide for their subjects, not exist as a passive force. Their power and wealth was meant to assist, not to impress. Sure, Lorenz enjoyed the finer things that his position brought him, but he would give it all if his people needed it. 

That was his job as a noble. 

Lorenz lay down, rolling over so he was facing the wall. He was sick and tired of feeling this way. 

There was a knock at his door, and stifling a groan, he went to answer it. Byleth was standing on the other side, a tray of food in her hands. 

“Hello, Professor.” Lorenz’ voice comes out quiet, “How may I help you?” 

She lifts the tray. “I noticed you weren’t in the dining hall with the others, so I brought you some soup.” Byleth gestures with her chin to his desk, “May I come in?” He stands aside to let the professor pass him, concerned that she was going to lecture him on speaking to women again.

He can’t help but feel his stomach rumble at the smell of the soup and bread. It was his favorite: a very simple broth with some vegetables and chicken. He hated fancy foods or strange textures, it made his mouth feel like it was crawling with bugs. 

“Thank you for thinking of me, Professor.” Lorenz pulls out a chair for her when she makes no motion to leave. “Is there… something else?” 

“Are you alright?” Her green eyes seem to stare right through him as he sits down to eat, her words simple. “You’ve been distant.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.” He raised the spoon to his mouth, blowing gently on the hot liquid. “Has there been a complaint?” Byleth sat down opposite him, crossing her legs. Her face was blank as ever, giving no hint to what might have called for this conversation. 

“I’m concerned.” She picks at the lace of her leggings. “Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes anymore.” 

Lorenz pauses. The professor had never been one to mince words, and he respected her for that. She never used two words when one would suffice, always assuring that her meaning came across. 

He sets his soup aside and folds his hands in his lap. “I’ll be honest, Professor. Living with my father during the first eighteen years of my life was difficult. There were aspects of me that he didn’t like. That didn’t fit someone of nobility.” He weaves and unweaves his fingers, alternating which hand was on top. “I thought the war might change his mind, but it only made him angrier. These past five years have been some of the worst.” 

When Lorenz looks back up at Byleth, her jaw is tight. That godly rage was burning just behind her eyes. He swallowed hard. 

“Professor?” 

Byleth took a moment and composed herself, “I apologize. For what it’s worth, Lorenz, I’ve seen how you struggle to connect with your classmates. You always change what you’re going to say at the last minute, as if someone is watching you.” Her focus on him is so intense he needs to look away as she continues. “Be yourself, Lorenz, not the man your father is trying to make you.” 

He smiles nervously, trying to claw back some of his noble facade to protect himself, “Is that an order?” 

“Yes.” She stands and replaces the chair. “And eat your dinner. That’s also an order.” 

“Of course, Professor.” He watches her move to the door, worrying at his lip, “Thank you.” 

She turned back to him, smiling slightly, “I’ll see you at breakfast.” The door closed behind her, leaving Lorenz in a contemplative silence. He picked his soup up again, pushing it around the bowl for a moment. 

Standing, Lorenz picked up the whole tray and took it downstairs to find his friends. They welcomed him happily, pulling him into their conversation. For once, Lorenz let himself engage. He accepted some food from Raphael, he entertained Claude’s ideas, he laughed as Leonie argued with Hilda over the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork. He flapped his hands by his face and no one questioned him. 

It still felt wrong to act in such a way, like an invisible hand might clap down and wrench him away, but Lorenz was going to savor the moments until then. 


End file.
